Evil Angel
by Korori
Summary: When the Flock attacks an Eraser safe house, everything goes wrong, and Iggy 'dies'. However, unknown to the Flock, Iggy is actually alive, and at the School. With only two weeks before he is scheduled for 'reprogramming', he must find a way to escape.
1. Chapter 1

Hi there people! Be warned, this document is rated M, there is some cussing and adult scenes. Know that before you read.

I have decided to start a new series... although in reality it is for my new account. I will transfer it in about two days. Yay! Also, I was listening to the song 'Take It All Away' while writing this, and just decided to name the story after that.

*SPOILER ALERT* Is Iggy really dead? Perhaps not... actually, no, not really. You'll see in the next chappie... so for now, enjoy my gory sense of writing.

Max POV

"Oh God! Oh... shit... holy shit..."

My voice is raspy with horror, and although I am sure my face is pale and still, the feeling that my stomach is dropping out underneath me makes me want to puke. My mind is spinning about a thousand miles a minute, trying to make a plan. A plan. I needed a plan. Anything. Something. Something to make this better...

But nothing would fix this. Our lives had changed. Iggy had changed, or at least, what was left of him did... not like I could recognize the broken, burned chunks of him that had been spit out of the explosion, and were now laying on the street like abandoned toys. In a sick way, though, part of me felt nothing. Nothing at all.

Dead was dead, and nothing could change that.

Iggy was dead.

Angel is the first one to start screaming bloody murder... while Nudge and Gazzy just stare and cry hysterically. Fang still isn't here. I don't know where he is. I don't really care.

Somehow, having bits of my best friend's brains splattered on my clothes... in my hair... had that effect on me. Fang, the bastard, could take all the time he wanted. After all, it had been his idea to raid the Eraser hideout, hadn't it? "They're going to follow us all the way back to Nevada," he had said, hideously calm, like always. Somehow, I found a pit in my chest beginning to tighten with anger. It had been his idea. Fang had killed Iggy.

Not me.

No, I had done everything I could, right? I had told him to leave the stupid bomb when the detonator hadn't worked. I had told him not to go in, that maybe the signal had been delayed, hadn't I?

I had been right, hadn't I?

Nonetheless, me being right or wrong didn't mean a thing. Iggy, my best friend, my brother... was dead.

...and who's fault was that?

I want to break down like every instinct tells me to, but I have to be strong for the kids. I force my eyes to stay dry, flecked with Eraser guts and blood. I make my stiff limbs carry me to the kids. They're huddled together, sobbing and screaming. Whatever was left of my mothering instincts by now kick in, and I turn Angel's head away from the gory scene. She abruptly stops shrieking when I do this, and instead trembled in my lap.

"... It's... It's... gonna be... okay... guys..." I stutter, but my voice comes out dead as air. My eyes wanted desperately to drift back to the war zone, to search for a part of Iggy that had survived, although I knew this to be impossible. Despite this, I draw myself closer into the circle. I notice the smallest of details. Angel's red 'Clifford The Big Red Dog' shirt was torn down the side, and blood was spattered over one of the dog's cartoon eyes. A white, oval shape, with a black dot in the bottom right corner. For a moment, I wondered if my eyes looked like that. Crazed and huge. They probably did.

Nudge had lost a big chunk of her hair in the battle, and it looked to me like most of one side of it had been singed off. Gazzy, still semi-clean in his army print pants and jacket, just looked like he was in shock.

We sit like this for a long time.

Maybe ten minutes later, or perhaps an hour... I wouldn't know... the faint beating of wings echoes through the sky. It grows louder, and within seconds, the sound of footsteps landing is behind me. That bubble of anger in my chest rises like a tidal wave when I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I instantly break free of the huddled group, and slice backwards, a knife in my hand.

"You bastard!" I scream, everything, shock, horror, anger, fear, coming out in those two words. The blade catches Fang's hand, and goes through his skin like butter.

"What the hell, Max!" He snaps, recoiling backwards and tripping ungracefully over a dead body. My eyes dart down to check that it isn't part of Iggy.

When I see that it isn't, I lunge at him again, flaring my wings out to add more speed. This time, instead of trying to get away, Fang darts to the left, and catches my shoulder with his uninjured hand. He pulls me to his chest, and pins my hands to my sides, pressing down mercilessly on my thumb until I drop the knife.

"Stop it, goddammit! Stop. Just stop. What happened? What happened, Max? Tell me!"

This is when I begin to sob, racking, debilitating sobs. My knees crumple, and I fall to the ground, taking Fang with me.

"You killed him!" I gasp, between shudders, "You killed him!"

Fang's arms tighten from behind me, and I feel him scanning the area. Suddenly, he grabs my chin, and pulls my head to the side. I close my eyes, as he begins to hyperventilate.

"Where's Iggy?"

When I don't answer, he shakes me. Hard. "Where is he! Where! Where's Iggy?"

For a moment, there is complete and utter silence. I still cant answer, although now the sobs have subsided into just silent tears. Fang abruptly lets me go, and crawls backwards. "No...no, no...no..." He stammers, and begins to crawl on his hands and knees.

He moves slowly at first, but then goes faster, checking the debris, the bodies, the remaining body parts.

"No! No!" He's screaming, like a madman. He's crying, too. The stone facade of emotionlessness and control breaking like a damn under an ocean of tears.

I curl into myself, silent


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi there people! Be warned, this document is rated M, there is some cussing and adult scenes. Know that before you read.**

**PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE READ IT ON MY WEBSITE! THERE IS MORE INFORMATION, AND BETTER READING QUALITY, IN ADDITION TO UNPUBLISHED CHAPTERS! Look up in your search bar: Korori. Weebly. com (only without the spaces between. Weebly, and . com)**

**- Lyrics belong to rightful owners.**

Iggy POV

Everything hurt.

That is the first thing that comes to Iggy's attention attention when the waning twilight of sleep begins to dissipate. He tries to hold consciousness back with all of his strength, but the very act of doing so seems to clear his head more than ever. With a groan, he slides his right arm forward to cradle his throbbing head, which was bend forward painfully, but is stopped with the ominous clank of metal against metal. Something hard and cold was digging into his wrist, which was sore and rubbed raw. When he tries to move his other arm, he gets the same reaction.

"...aw, shit..." he sighs, slowly raising his agonized neck to brace it against the wall that was holding his arms in place. The room smelled like bleach and mothballs.

Suddenly, with a spark of terror, Iggy sucks in his breath. Holds it for a moment. Lets it out. He was, without the slightest of a doubt, in the School. There was no debating that fact, and with another deep breath of the putrid air, he forces his nerves to steady. The constrictions that were pressing against his heart throbbed with its' every beat, and he could practically feel the blood pumping behind his eyes. The smells, the darkness, the chains... the entire sensory load was giving him a migraine.

He could hardly stand it.

However, before he can situate himself enough to stop the impending panic attack, when the deep growl of a heavy object being moved resonates through Iggy's room. A door, he realizes, struggling to turn away from the noise. However, before he can prepare himself, the sound of quick footsteps and a heavy boot in his side stops his retreat. He doubles over as much as possible, pain exploding in his stomach. Behind him, someone is doing something with his hands.

Right. Unchaining them.

When the person, most likely Eraser, finishes undoing the heavy cuffs, Iggy's arms fall forward with an agonizing lurch. He stifles a groan of pain, forcing his sore shoulder blades to rotate enough for him to pick himself up. He soon realizes, with a pang, that that would be a physical impossibility. Pain stabs through his arms like fire, making him whimper.

Dammit. This was bad.

And then, there was the whole idea that he didn't remember how he had gotten to this place. What about the flock? Had they been captured, too? Did they even know he was here? Iggy had no idea, and that was even more horrifying than the chains, mothballs, and Erasers that were moving forward to drag him out of the room. Maybe they didn't know he was here. Then... what? How could he escape? He was blind, after all. And everyone knew that blind people were useless at escaping state-of-the-art facilities.

_No_, Iggy thinks to himself, clenching his eyes shut as the Erasers pull him from the cell. They drag him into what he was sure to be a hallway, where they roughly strap him to a metal gurney. The smell of bleach was worse here. However, as they begin to wheel him down the hallway, much more than the scents increased in their disgust. He could hear the muffled sounds of metal against metal, bone cracking... even the far-away words of a doctor in another room.

"Okay, Mason, now open up the posterior cortex for me. Good. Now, stretch it out a bit with the clamps, yes, just like that... don't be afraid to tear it... always...more experiments..."

Mercifully, the voices fade as they move further through the corridor, and soon, there is only the sound of heavy footsteps and rolling wheels. It is unnaturally silent, with a complete lack of life, or any noises that should have come from it thereof. By now, Iggy has resigned himself to the raw terror that was racking through his body, making his mouth dry, and his hands shake.

Suddenly, they come to a stop. A door opens somewhere nearby, without so much as a squeak, and the Erasers shove the gurney forward. A gut wrenching jerk as they come to another stop, a few feet into the next room. A sound of footsteps retreating, and the door closes behind him.

_Oh god, oh god, oh god..._

From across the room, more footsteps move towards Iggy's steel prison. When he was younger, Iggy had figured out how to tell what mood someone was in just by the sound of their footsteps. As he had gotten older, he had noticed that Fang's were always silent and quick. Max's had been loud. Painfully, sometimes, to his hypersensitive ears. Angel's were light, and reminded him of a dancer's.

This man's were agonizingly slow. Painfully confident. They spoke more about his personality than anything he could have said would. They were like a tiger's, closing in for the kill... but not quickly. Stealthily, yes, in the manner than a cat would play with it's food before brutally slaughtering it.

But Iggy knew better than that. He wouldn't be slaughtered here just yet. He would be experimented and tortured first. It had happened before, and it surely would again.

_White walls surround us_

_No light will touch your face again_

_Rain taps the window_

_As we sleep among the dead_

He couldn't help but think about a song he had heard once. Couldn't remember the name... but knew the lyrics. The song was playing again and again in his head, like it once did on his iPod. He could only guess that the name had been 'Sleep Among the Dead' or something, just by logically listening to the lyrics. No one had ever read the title to him though. Now, for some reason, Iggy wished that he had made someone.

_Days go on forever_

_But i have not left your side_

_We can chase the dark together_

_If you go then so will I_

"Well, well, well... what a lovely surprise! I haven't had one of you avian-hybrids in my facility for quite a while! I'm really quite excited... I can't wait to, quite literally, start looking into you! Now, which one were you..." for a moment, the voice is silent, and there are instead the sounds of paper being shuffled. Folders opened. Iggy shudders, fear sweat breaking out in his palms. The voice definitely belonged to a man, although it was unnaturally nasal. However, behind the man's words, there was a cold, calculating feel that Iggy couldn't shake.

"...Right! Your Subject 9! My favorite of all, save Maximum, of course. Now, this report says that some dipshit in optometry blinded you... eh? Now, I'm really sorry to hear about that... so I'm sure you won't mind if I take a quick look-"

Iggy stiffens with terror as something cold is jammed between his tightly clenched eyelids. It ratchets them open painfully, until he can feel the cool air touching the very top of his eyeball. There's the snap of a glove, and as Iggy opens his mouth to protest, fingers begin to explore his eyes. None to gently, either.

"Ah, that makes sense..." the man murmurs to himself, before speaking directly to Iggy again. "Subject 9, did you know that you have an extreme buildup of scar tissue on the bottom of your cornea? That's probably where Dr. Dipshit fucked things up for you. In case you were curious about how this happened, the procedure was supposed to give you better night vision, which would involve adding more rods into the back of your eye, where light is refracted..."

Iggy squirms in his bonds uncomfortably, as the doctor steps away, pausing his speech for a moment, to grapple with something that sounds sharp and made of metal. When he returns, something even colder than the air is pressed up against the outer layers of his eye. Iggy gasps for air, trying not to move. "What are you doing to me?" He whimpers, disgusted by his own cowardice.

The doctor ignores him and keeps talking. "...So, anyway, instead of adding the rods properly, he sliced off part of the actual lens of your eye. Without it, the inside, which was already prone to damage, was permanently...how should I say this in simple terms... fucked up, by the solution that was going to insert the rods in there. If we had fixed your physical lens, you would have had intense bleeding, and eventually the eye would have collapsed in on itself... thus ruining any further experimentation that we could have done. So, in an effort to preserve the evidence, we repeated the process in your other eye. Now, that was my job. And quite frankly, I feel like I did it very well."

At last, the man stops talking. Now, the cool thing that had been placed on Iggy's eye was slowly moving around it. Iggy's breath was coming in short, harsh, rasps. He was very afraid. More so of what the doctor was doing up there, than anything else. The suspense was worse than the wetness and dull pain that was moving through his socket.

"Please... please don't hurt me," Iggy begged, blinking against the growing pain, "What are you doing to my eyes? I'm blind, remember? It's not like you can get anything from them. Please, can't you stop? Don't you have what you need?"

Regardless of his pleas, the pain and coldness continues.


End file.
